


Lore of the Dead

by bunbunsama



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:04:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunbunsama/pseuds/bunbunsama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the entire fate of the universe resting in her bloodied hands, Shepard isn't too sure she's up for the new challenges she's going to face. Especially if one new challenge seems to involve her somehow ending up in a universe much younger than her own and with one team member who seems more than accepting of their fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories of the Fallen

"Thoi'han?" She mimics, her obvious confusion apparent on her features, "Yeah, you're gonna have to elaborate on that one, Admiral."  
The blue glow of Hackett's form buzzed momentarily, blurring his features before once again sharpening and focusing on the admiral's appearance--all of which were straight, sharp, and focused on her. His blue hues widened lightly as his brows rose high above his eyes, letting out a disgruntled sigh before he continued once more, "I'm no scientist, Shepard, but my sources are telling me that they just might have had some knowledge about the Catalyst that we just don't have. I've sent you the coordinates to a planet the Asari have passed over--they seem to have found a large amounts of debris and wreckage that dates back over a century; maybe your newest squad mate might have some answers as well."  
"Admiral," Shepard sighed, running her palm through her strawberry blonde short hair, fingers lingering on the imprinted scars which plagued her brow, "We don't have time to divert over on some hunch; we need-"  
"We need to figure out what we've got here, Commander," she pressed her tongue against the side of her cheek, a sign the Admiral knew well enough meant her patients was wearing thin, "Our scientists are busy following the schematics, but we still have no idea what we've got. If there is even a slim chance that we might be able to find some sort of clue--well, you know how invaluable that might be." She rolled her eyes, arms knitting together over her chest; to which he narrowed his own, brows knitting together in obvious frustration, "Check it out; better you find nothing than give up a possible information cache; or worse, should Cerberus recover it." He knew that'd get her attention and was rewarded with her body going rigid and those deep, crimson scars flaring along her clenched jaw. It was a low blow, but it seemed that was all she understood.  
"Understood," she replied sharply, a sour undertone caught within her voice, "We'll check it out."  
He nodded, "Good. Hackett out."  
His image, the marred and angular features and sharp, straight uniform and posture, sputtered and faded, leaving the Commander alone in the quiet alcove of the quantum-entanglement communication room. Pressing her tongue against her lips, moistening them as she let out an irked sigh, she let her hands fall and quickly moved out of the QEC. Stepping out into the War Room, Medusa Shepard felt her chest tighten as it always did. The lingering presence of the faces which had been occupying certain station, now abandoned, forgotten, still burned fresh in her mind--her eyes--and left those stations marred. She didn't give much of an attention to the details of the room, keeping her head down as she passed, giving passing glances only at those who's eyes fell upon her. She could put on a brave face, slap on a winning grin, and talk with the strength of millions, but under it all--peeled away layer after layer every night--she was broken; her body singed by past battles, ripped apart by seething rage and violence, and her heart laid waste by the loss of so many. None knew this pain, knew the depth of the sea she had slowly been sinking in, and she never let them ask. If they asked, if they pried, she didn't know if she'd be able to hide it away again--didn't know if she'd be able to fix herself once more.  
It had started slowly, small, with the death of a close companion. His life, Professor Mordin Solus, had been given to help amend for what his species had done, but that didn't make it any better. Him smiling at her, telling her in that quick, song-like voice, "Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong." She'd said she was sorry, not for just the lost of his life, but for what he'd hoped she'd have become; hoped she'd have softened her edges; hoped to see her eyes not cloaked in red, but shining blue. Hoped to experience the Commander Shepard the vids always raged about, about her heroics and her caring nature. In those final moments, he had. After that, it began to grow, the worst soon following; she'd lost her hope.  
He'd been her morale; her future. He'd been everything she'd ever hope to have; every childhood fantasy that she had grown to ignore. He'd been her salvation, his calm blanketing her blinding rage and bringing her out of her darkness. He'd wanted to make the universe brighter before he passed, and in all of it, he'd made her universe brighter. That was before it'd happened, before Cerberus laid siege to the Citadel in an attempt to kill the Councilors, and before he, Thane Krios, had fallen on the blade of the assassin Kai Leng. Worse, she'd watched the whole thing--beginning to end--and as the foreign assassin sputtered out of sight, she had rushed to the drell's side, her breath short, her heart in her throat, blood roaring in her ears, and tears in her eyes. Her hands had been stained with blood since she was a child, but as she fell to her knees, hands scrambling for empty medi-gel packs as she tried to keep pressure on the wound, that had been the day her hands were tattooed with the blood of her failure; of her loss. That had been the death of any good she had left in her body, any part of her that had retained the ideal paragon of humanity. Cerberus--the Illusive Man--had known her weakness and had exploited it. He'd won.  
"Ma'am." She nodded in the corporal's direction, the small band in charge of the body scanners straightening as their commanding officer passed by, scan clean as always. There was no time to succumb to the past failures, no time to show weakness when there were millions of others going through agonizing turmoil, the same pain. There was nothing special about her sorrow and certainly no mercy for her. There was a war in her hands, Reapers at her back, and the lives of trillions hanging on her words--her choices. The past was dead and gone, the present was right in front of her and she was perfectly fine to bury herself in that.  
Samantha's note about something catching her attention fell on deaf ears, her voice nothing but white noise to the blue eyed Spectre--a title she'd always cringe and spit on. It was the Council's decision to reinstate her, even after she'd told them exactly where to shove it after she'd come for their aid with the Collectors. They'd tried to be reasonable, giving her back her status so long as she stayed out in the Terminus System, but she knew better, knew it was for good press, not for her. Now it had been forced on her, given as a way to help with whatever she needed to stop the Reapers. She'd become their last resource and they had finally started to see it, but it had been too late for the Turian homeworld. She could remember her conversation with the Councilor's, asking for their help once more; how she'd laughed in their face when they denied her and how she pretended to take bets on which planet would fall first--"If the Reaper's are smart, which we should assume because come on, it obviously takes brains to do what they've done, it'd be a good strategic plan to take out Palavon first--military bred aliens, right?--but then again, those biotic badasses out on Thessia might just threaten them more. Sur'Kesh is probably safe, seeing as the Reapers don't need some short-lived lizards to tell them what the square root of pi is; heh, get it? Cause I'm Greek?" That hadn't been her best diplomatic strategy, Udina had nearly attempted to tear her a new one--though there was little he could actually do--but when the Turian councilor had stepped through the doors, she knew she had them--though she couldn't help but add air quotes when he mentioned the Reapers having taken Palavon; another bad joke, but she'd stopped caring after they told her 'no' for the third and final time.  
The elevator hummed, sinking into the bowels of the frigate at a hurried pace; the doors opening and allowing the soldier to exit and make her way towards the Port Cargo hold. A place of neutral ground, of learning, and of silence.  
The door opened and a rush of arid winds ran over her pale face, reminding her of summer days back in Athens--back to her childhood on the clustered megatropolis in the Mediterranean. The hiss of the doors got his attention, though he showed no outward reaction towards her appearance--as always. The woman entered the room and took to her usual throne upon some stacked containers. The hum of the ship, the soft sounds of water rolling off his hands and into the accumulated basins, and her own breathing filled the room as they became acclimated to the others being--a regular thing betwixt the two after the Citadel failure. The only failure she'd never recover from; not fully. She couldn't blame her companions, they had been worried when she'd come back to the Normandy, soaked in blood--not all of it her own--and sweat, her skin pale, and her eyes lifeless with the spark of crimson fire behind them. It had been unprofessional of her, but after she'd chased off Kaiden with more bite than a rabid varren and the death of Thane, she'd shut herself away behind closed doors. Her omni-tool had been shut off--only emergency messages could be recieved--and all contact with the other inhabitants of the ship had been cut. She'd covered herself in the darkness which she'd created as a young assassin back before she'd joined the Alliance, keeping everyone and everything out.  
They did nothing when she'd gone quiet for a day. When the second day had rolled over, they'd discussed going up and confronting her--worry boiling in their guts. When the third day came around, they knew they had to do something--whether it be dragging her out or barging in--but just as they had begun their plan, the elevator had chimed open and she'd started shouting orders once more. Her skin was pale, eyes cloaked in sleeplessness, and her appearance like the shadow of a ghost--there when you don't notice, but gone when you turn. They'd tried on several occasions to talk with her, to ask if she was alright or to express concern on her obvious fatigue, but she'd always fled before they could start. They'd seek her out, find her and try to pry, but she'd just show a broken grin and nod that she was fine. When the questions wouldn't stop, or the smiles weren't good enough, she'd followed her feet and found herself standing in the dry circulating air in the port cargo bay--Javik shooting a glare at her as she'd enter. This was when she'd grown thankful for his solemn nature, thankful that even though he could easily sense her distress and crumbling ego, he'd never ask or bring it up. If someone found her, he'd insert himself in the conversation, making chide remarks and condescending imperialistic comments about whomever walked through the doors looking for Shepard. She never asked why, but when she'd toss a smirk his way--his four eyes glaring sharp at her--she would thank her Gods she'd chosen to hide out along with him.  
"In my cycle," he began after a moment, disrupting the silence which had settled betwixt the two Commanders, "when the Zha had completely implanted themselves with symbiotic AI technology, the Reapers used this to their advantage and seized control of the synthetic Zha'til." She listened silently, as she always did, as he always did for her. "They altered their genetics, took control of their offspring, and created swarms of them which would darken the skies. As a merciful act, we sent their star into supernova."  
She snorted, leaning back and letting her hands tangle in her lap, "If this is your way of telling me that I did a good thing back on Rannoch, thanks for not patting me on the back," he glanced over, only to roll his eyes at her as she leaned her head back, "but I know that what I did--that by allowing the Quarian's to commit genocide of an entire species--was wrong," sighing heavily, feeling the weight coming back, the feeling of wading through thick mud, she pushed herself up, shaking her head, "No war is won without hard choices, but that's not why I'm here." The bait had been taken and Medusa gave a crooked grin to dispel her outward wariness, though all he did was narrow his eyes at her, "Thoi'han, know about'em?"  
Straightening up to full height, nearly a whole foot taller than she was, he drew his hinted curious gaze on her, "They were a species which advanced alongside the Inusannon before my cycle. They waged war with them, but both lost. Why?"  
"We believe they might have discovered what the Catalyst might have been, or be, I suppose," the smaller human informed, crossing her arms over her chest, "They're sending us out to some planet closer to the Galactic Core to check out a debris field of some kind. Hackett wanted to see if you might have any insight to what we might be looking for."  
"No, Commander," he simply answered, to which she easily enough shrugged her shoulders and moved to make her way out the door, "The morale of the crew is better when you do not hide away in your quarters." She stopped in the doorway, her hand resting on the cool, vibrating metal, otherwise unfazed by his words. Raising her head, she left, not another word spared for his remark--his obviously true observation.  
She wouldn't let him see how his words affected her, knowing already he could sense it on her. That'd just be like adding another injury to the insult and she wasn't about to lie down and let him do that to her--not when he followed her orders on the battlefield. He may have showed her how to manage her evolved and alien biotics, but this hadn't been one of their sessions--if she'd even call the yelling matches they'd had that--this had been her coming to him for an official statement. Personal quips could be dished out to Allers if he wanted her to really notice; otherwise, it was all white noise.  
Thankfully the elevator once again promptly allowed her to exit off and make her way to the command information center, shrugging off Traynor once more as she climbed the steps to overlook the sparkling galaxy below. The Galaxy Map spun to life at her touch, quivering as she didn't hesitate to zoom in towards the Galactic Core and select the coordinates Hackett had sent over--thankfully, it looked like they could avoid a run in of the Omega 4 Relay.  
"Joker, EDI," she called out, her helmsman and the ship's unshackled AI turned co-pilot, "Set a course for these coordinates-" just as the last syllable left her lips, the desired information had been sent to the helm.  
"Really, Commander? The Galactic Core? Didn't you learn your lesson the last time?" was the smart response she got overhead, forcing a sort of small, lopsided grin on her lips, "We would not need to pass through the Omega 4 Relay, Jeff, as these coordinates are a full system away from where the Collector Base previously was."  
"That's not the point, EDI," Joker threw back against the synthetic female voice, "it's the fact the Commander enjoys making us go to these uncharted, dangerous places."  
"You're the one who told me you could make her dance, remember?" Shepard tossed in, glad that she'd been able to throw in her own retort before EDI had, "If you can't walk the walk-"  
"Ha, ha, Shepard, very funny," he dryly laughed over Medusa's own chuckle, "make jokes about the cripple, I see how it is. Why don't you go find some krogan to headbutt or somethin'." She hummed lightly at his proposal, taking full pride in the notion that she acted more krogan than most krogans, "ETA, about 10 hours."  
Tossing up a thanks, to which EDI replied sweetly while Joker replied with a grunted form of approval, the commander once more turned into the elevator, leaning against the back wall as she punched in the floor for her quarters. It was getting harder to maintain everything, harder to show some sort of emotion behind her words without letting the tiredness and frustration out along with it. Everyone could note it in her steady decrease in appearance aboard the ship; how she'd changed from the forceful, yet beaming face aboard, to the distilled and tempered ghost which merely graced the eyes of her crew when need was evident. She was still forceful, determined, and headstrong, but even her own weariness--the nights interrupted by the voices of those she'd lost, when she'd wake up screaming in a cold sweat--was going to break her down piece by piece and eventually, they knew she'd simply drift away. Some of the crew were not ample to let that happen.  
Entering her quarters, the fog of blue misting across the floor from the large fish tanks, the human pulled her uniform over her head, tossing it on the couch below. She could sleep for 10 hours--if her mind let her--but she didn't sink into the mattress; didn't succumb to the accumulated hours of sleep she'd lost. She sunk into the chair at her desk and buried herself in the reports for the past few missions she'd done while on Rannoch. She read them over, her memory still fresh from the fight which had been a few weeks prior, then she re-read them, making sure nothing--not a detail--went unnoticed by her fading gaze. There had been nothing she could have done, no change in her words, or actions, which could have saved the Geth; she knew this, but she did not accept it; didn't want to accept. They'd killed another Reaper, given the Quarian's their home world back, and destroyed an entire race of synthetic beings; she'd done it and people were okay with it all. That was what made her angry--made her blood boil beneath her flesh--that everyone was giving her praise for committing genocide. It hadn't been a victory, it had only been a realization; a realization that told her she was no better than the Reapers. That was the realization which marred her flesh like the many tattoos and scars which called her pale skin home; except those were badges of honour, but this, it would only be a badge of shame.  
The commander hissed through her teeth, tossing the data pad back on her desk and dropping her head into her hands. Inhaling deeply, she let out a bellowed breath, running her hands over her scalp as she pushed herself from the chair. She could feel the clutches of this depression begin to seize her once more, guiding her with a force towards her bed--where she could lay and take the brutal attack her nightmares would throw at her--but even she had limits for how much she'd let herself take. She may be in pain, but she wouldn't let anyone see and sometimes, she wouldn't let herself see. Stripping off the last of her command uniform, leaving her only in a sports bra and her underwear, she made her way back up and stepped into the bathroom. Her hand waved and twist the shower settings, letting the water run over her hand and wrist as she waited for it to become just the right mixture of hot and cold; the water staining the gentle skin on her wrist a brilliant red. Baring her skin to the elements, she removed what was left, tossing it in a pile across the small quarters, and stepped into the warm water. The heat rolled over her cheeks, dripped down her shoulders, and brought a burning nip to her back; expelling the aches of her position. The sting of hot water kept her awake, kept her blood moving, and her body away from sleep; too afraid of what might be there waiting for her. Some nights there was peace, what some might call it in comparison--nights when she's sink into a slumber brought on by exhaustion and dream of the sea, of promises made, and a lover's cooling touch--but most nights it was just the same fogged forest, the trees tilting in towards her, reaching for her, and her feet moving for the boy as voices of the fallen rang in her ears. Some night it was bearable, but most she'd rather not have to endure.  
Rinsing off the lathered soap, the lingering smell of peaches sticking to her skin, she turned the shower off and moved to retrieve a towel to dry herself. As the towel swept over her skin, the water and the emotions which it had flooded, was wiped away, leaving her once again the capable commander who didn't falter, didn't break, and who could bring down anything that stood in her way. Her walls were up, strong, and ready to deal out the damage which always came with this war. Glancing at the clock, a nervous tension already starting to rise once more in her muscles, she noted the time--only a little under 8 hours left--and groaned at herself. She didn't want to face the crew, not when she didn't need to, but there was nothing keeping her within the metal walls of her quarters; she was going to either grow very restless or end up in another dance number with lieutenant Vega--if she was lucky, it wouldn't take much to just get a fight out of him and no counseling session. She didn't need to hear her own words tossed back at her, she'd told them herself countless times and each time, they grew more hollow.

Dressing in a pair of black sweats and tossing on an overly large sweater--even after nearly a decade, the inside of a ship was always a bit cooler than she liked--the commander dropped down onto the black leather couch which occupied the bottom floor of her quarters. She leaned back, tucking her knees under her, and sighed with a false amount of content. There were a few things she knew she should count as a 'bright side'--the near-death scare for Grunt, her krogan tank-born, had been one--but it was hard to see the light when there was more darkness. She knew her thinking was a festering wound, growing more and more repugnant by the day, like a large hole in her gut that everyone could see, but she couldn't control the empty feeling of loss; the hollow sensation which vibrated through her veins and fed her body. It was such a deep hole of self-loathing, hate, and anger, that it would easily suffocate anyone, especially when she was slowly losing the will to fight it. There was so much she couldn't control, people she couldn't save--everyone seemed to be telling her that nowadays--but that didn't make it any better; if anything, it made it worse. Shepard was controlling, she liked everything to be perfect, from a headshot mid-battle to no casualties during a mission. Now it seemed her Gods were ignoring her, all her prayers and hymns falling on deaf ears and leaving her nothing more than a scared child. It was painful. She probably would have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by the low hum of the Tantalus Core and the soft rumble of the fish tanks beside her as she slowly sunk deep within her thoughts, but a ring at her door spooked her, making her jump a bit as she looked over her shoulder at the door. Getting to her feet, she breathed in heavily, putting on her brave face and welcoming the visitor inside; of course, the moment she was face to face with who it was, she knew already she was going to end up on the losing end. If it had been Liara or Tali, she could easily have pushed the conversation towards other things--mostly by bringing up their possible love interests--but when it came to the vigilante turned Reaper Advisor, there was never a way for her to turn the conversation, at least not without him knowing.

"Hey Shepard," he greeted, mandibles flaring a bit at her casual attire--having grown used to her strange affection for that large sloth sweater-- "I'd ask if I came at a bad time, but with the Reapers at our back, it's hard for there to ever be a good time."  
She motioned for him to come in, an action she knew she'd regret in time, "Yeah, but hey, we're sure making their days hell too--maybe not as bad, but, give us time."  
"More like give you a few more days and you'll send them running," they both got a laugh out of that, settling the air which surrounded the two snipers.  
Settling back on the couch with a louder thud, Shepard leaned back and gave a hollow grin, "Yeah, they'll certainly be regretting ever messing with Earth soon enough and then we'll go and make that Illusive Man reappear--hopefully dead."  
"Glad I told you to remind me not to get on your bad side," she huffed, smiling lightly, causing the turian's mandible to still against his face, "Shepard, how are you holding up? Really, not just something you tell Liara so she'll stop asking."  
Medusa clenched her jaw, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looked up at the taller sharpshooter with a forced smile, "You're wrong there, because even then, she keeps asking--makes me glad Kasumi decided to help with the Crucible; she'd have figured me out in a second."  
"Give me a some credit," he joked, "I have been with you through everything--from Saren to the Collector to now."  
Giving a lopsided grin, trying to keep her walls up as their conversation continued, "And now you're coming with me to check out some ancient ship wreckage near the Galactic Core; so long as you don't end up killing our newest guest of course."  
"Ah, you mean the Prothean you found behind the varren roast? I'm sure I could stand him, I mean, I've been with you for a lot longer," His mandibles flared again at her laughter--something they hadn't exactly heard in months, let alone as much as he had since arriving-- "So why are we going back to the Galactic Core?"  
"Hackett thinks there might be some clue to what the Catalyst device might be or maybe more about it, I don't know," she shrugged, wrinkling her nose in a bit of frustration, "I'd rather not waste our time and effort out that far, especially since the fact is we don't know if we're even going to find anything, but," she gave an exaggerated shrug, crossing her arms and getting to her feet again, "Hey, who am I to argue with the Admiral?"  
Garrus stayed silent through her rant, something which had bothered her when she'd come back and was forced to work with Cerberus--days of nothing but anger and rage smothered by his silence and an assassin's words, "There must be something, Meds, he wouldn't just send us out without any evidence."  
She groaned, "I hate you because you're right, but-"  
"You hate running from the fight, I know, we all hate it," he tossed at her, finishing her argument before she could, "But if there does happen to be some kind of ancient data pad or maybe another frozen alien to keep our current guest company, I wouldn't want Cerberus finding out about it." He noticed her muscles go taunt from the mention of Cerberus, the way her scars flared and her lips drew thin; it was no secret that Commander Shepard had always been on the receiving end of things with the pro-human organization--having found out three years ago that her entire unit had been killed for some experiment done by them and then when they'd killed Thane. "Look, how about you come down with me to the armory; I just got a couple new mods for our sniper rifles and I'm sure you'd start pouting if I didn't share."

"Ah-" she paused a moment, thinking about what he was asking, "you always know how to sweet talk me, you damn turian."  
"Yeah, well, I figure after three years, I know a thing or two about how to charm you," his mouth plates managed something of a smile, or at least what Medusa had come to recognize as one, "otherwise I'd probably have ended up dead a long time ago." She grinned softly, more genuine than it had been in months, getting to her feet and walking towards the stairs with the much taller turian beside her.  
"Always knew you were a quick learner Garrus," she mused playfully as the door opened, the elevator opening a brief moment after, "Hope you know if you want me down in the armory you're gonna have to indulge me with a bit of tea first."  
"Liara was boiling water when I came up, figured I'd make a cup of that spiced Salarian brew you normally drink," his mandibles quivered lightly before they pressed close to his face, "I'll never understand how you can drink that."  
Medusa let out another low voiced laugh, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater as the taller turian entered after her. She'd have never believed that there would be a day she'd be thankful for having a turian as her closest friend, but then again, she'd never think she'd need a close friend. Today he hadn't pressed, so the small ruby blonde simply thanked her Gods for that small miracle as she began to ask about the mods he'd mentioned. _Maybe the Gods are still listening,_ she thought to herself as she continued to engage in conversation with the sharp shooter, _Maybe the rest of the day won't be so bad._


	2. Memoirs of the Forgotten

Snapping on an advanced scope to her Scorpion V pistol, a weapons she didn't know she'd wanted till she'd watched Kirrahe in action back on Sur'Kesh, the Commander did a quick check of the snow white handgun before she strapped it onto her hip. With her M8-Widow, a weapon which still raised questions about how durable Cerberus had made her, strapped to her back and waiting, the new mods Garrus had offered had switched out her existing mods, making the large gun lighter and even more deadly at long range, Shepard looked down at the work bench once more, checking for anything which might catch her eye before she departed.  
The turian and prothean, her chosen team for this quick mission, had already suited up and checked their weapons; the two boarding the Kodiak out of the corner of her icy hues. Medusa had delayed a bit, having switched out a few things about her armor which would hopefully prove to be useful should the three come upon any oppression once they landed on the battered surface of the planet they orbited. Through the glass windows of the Normandy, the petite woman had noted how barren and shattered the planet they'd been sent to was; how the star which it orbited was more dense than the Sun, and equally hotter. It'd burn away any life which had once resided on it's surface, evaporated any water, and even turned mercury into gas. The atmosphere had been ripped from the planet centuries ago, or as scientists had theorized, which left the mind open to what it may have looked like before that. Joker had made quips about Medusa's taste in planets, how most of the time she brought them out to searing, barren planets. She'd reminded him that she only did that on her good days and that on her bad, she enjoyed taking them to frozen wastelands. He's scoffed, murmuring something as she'd walked off the bridge and had went to her quarters to suit up.  
Checking over her armor for the fourth time, the black pieces were accent with gold patterns which stripped over her breast plate and covered her knees and shoulders, making sure everything was secured and tight. With no atmosphere a single break in her suit, a single rupture, and she'd be reliving memories which she'd wish Cerberus had taken away; though the idea of crossing the river, the sea--as Thane always said--was tempting, she'd never leave the battlefield, not till it was over or she had been killed. Sighing once more, rolling her neck and once more filling her lungs, she reached over and began to roll a long piece of fabric in her hands, tying the wrap over her shoulder and under her left arm; a cloak which had saved her life many times over. Having studied in optics during her training years, the cloak had proven to be a useful project, as one side was lined with a thermal suppressant material which would drop her body heat, allowing her to escape heat scans nearly undetected, the other side was woven with a special material which bent the light rays which struck it, curving them and giving whatever it concealed a veil of invisibility. It had always been her favorite and as a sniper, it proved it's worth time and time again. Once it had been tied, she grabbed her helmet and made her way over towards the Kodiak, smoothing a hand over her mess of ruby blonde hair and over the spider-web scars across her cheek. At least while on a mission her mind wouldn't be plaguing her and memories of the forgotten wouldn't drag her down. While on a mission, she'd be free from this depression and that was what prompted the woman to jump on the shuttle and slam the door behind her; a signal to Cortez telling him they were all on board. Gripping the hand railing tightly, her helmet in the other hand at her side, they awaited the shuttle to take off; the conversation held betwixt the two pilots muffled by the barrier betwixt the cockpit and passenger area. The air around the team was still, silent, as they all simply remained quiet around the others. There wasn't much to talk about, no jokes to share or memories to reminisce about, as both commanders were solemn by nature and Garrus just didn't push his luck; he'd gotten Medusa out of her cabin while off duty, that was more than enough coming from her--enough to show him that she was trying.  
The rumble of the lift opening vibrated through the shuttle, rattling some of the supplies which had been stuffed in some of the upper compartments; mostly ammunition and medi-gel packs along with some dried rations and canteens of water. The familiar vertigo which overtook Shepard, the shuttle sinking from the bowels of the Normandy and maneuvering off towards the surface, dazed her momentarily, her body swaying as her grip tightened. Any feeling of weightlessness, whether in water or space, had become something she was addicted to, something to show her she was still alive. She'd taken to swimming while she had been grounded, whether she'd do laps or simply sink to the bottom of the pool and think; this had resulted in Vega jumping in after her and nearly drowning her as he tried to save her as she'd been under for almost three minutes. The feeling was repeated when they entered the planet's gravity field, a small shuffle of items and a deep sway which could have resulted in the commander falling if she hadn't braced herself against the wall. Only a moment after the sensation was lost, the silence was broken, at least in Shepard's ear, as Cortez informed her of the situation in the cockpit. "Hey, Commander," he'd started off, his voice a bit weary, but strong, "I was running the initial scans of the planet surface and got a hit--no idea what it was, but it certainly was strong--but just now I lost it and the scanners are on the fritz. Whoever's doing this isn't excited about us dropping by."  
She pressed her finger to the communicator in her ear, turning her head away as she spoke, "Hopefully you got coordinates, Cotrez," she started sternly, only softening up as she continued, "as for whoever's down there, we'll handle'em without a problem."  
"I figured as much, Commander," he replied light, yet professionally, "as for coordinates, I'm uploading them to your hard suit now. We'll be at the LZ in five minutes."  
She nodded, "Good work, Cortez. Shepard out." She reached up and retrieved her railing, turning towards the other two. She hadn't expected them to have joined her among the standing, even more, she hadn't expected the towering prothean to be in such close proximity of her. While normally she'd distance herself from anyone, especially Javik, it was hard for there to be much room within the small space of the Kodiak; more so, she'd picked the taller two of her squad mates, reminding her just how short in comparison she truly was. "We've got our orders, boys," she began, slinging her helmet over her head--the other two following suit--"Seems we've got company, so be ready." Clicking the clasps on her helmet to her suit, she pulled at the seals to make sure they would hold. Before she clicked on her helmet to helmet radio, she rolled her neck and took a step away from the two, releasing her white knuckled grip on the railing and holding both her palms out and up,  
 _"*Hear me, Zeus' daughter, celebrated queen, Bromia and Titan, of a noble mien:_  
 _Swift in the course, in dreadful arrows skill'd, wandering by night, rejoicing in the field:_  
 _Of manly form, erect, of bounteous mind, illustrious dæmon, nurse of human kind:_  
 _Immortal, earthly, bane of monsters fell, 'tis thine; blest maid, on woody hills to dwell:_  
 _Foe of the stag, whom woods and dogs delight, in endless youth who flourish fair and bright._  
 _Give me thine cunning, lend me thine strength, and may all my enemies fall if they do so fight."_

Inhaling lightly, her prayer hopefully heard by the Gods she cherished, the commander turned to face the opening gate, her hand moving to switch on her helmet communicator as the other pulled the Scorpion from her hip. The Kodiak hovered only centimeters above the ground, allowing the three to jump from the elevated platform before flying off back to the Normandy. She extended her arm out, both hands gripping on the handgun, only freeing one to order the two to her flanks and to keep ready; the two taking almost an equal distance from the Commander. The gravity of the planet weighted down her shoulders and hips, pulling her body down towards the ground beneath her feet; she ignored the heavy feeling, though she wished her body would as well as she continued along the ridged surface. All around her it was red, still, and dead; large peaks jutting out of the surface and huge crevasses dipping deep into the planet's core. They had landed in a valley, as she guessed by the surrounded ring of mountains which covered them, with plenty of cover and even more open space. She'd have worried about snipers, so much high ground to take all around the three of them, but that was also their downfall; the mountains towering nearly too high for anyone to adventure in such dangerous territory just to take watch; it'd be suicide.  
They continued on swift feet through the valley, guns ready and eyes sharp, the radio betwixt them silent as Medusa kept to hand signals and occasional Greek Sign Language--Garrus having had plenty of experience dealing with her signs, even picking up a few that didn't require five fingers, while Javik simply grunted and ignored them. She'd grown used to his stand-offish behavior towards her small quirks, just as he'd grown used to her 'personal bubble', as she'd yell that at him when they'd first met; it'd been a lot of yelling and her shouting, "In this cycle, we speak what we want to share. So if you can't articulate what you want to say, then shut it." Overall it'd been a great start to their professional relationship, while their personal relationship--neither of them would admit to having one--was more based on the belittling insults he'd throw at her over her control of her newly developed prothean biotics and her aggravated yelling. Over time, constant firefights, and many more yelling matches, the two had come to tolerate the other, though he still called her 'primitive' about sixty-five percent of the time. It was a start.  
As they walked, the valley narrowed and widened, twisted and turned, but not a single life form had been found. Their scanners were clean and strangely working without a problem, unlike the Kodiak scanners had been. That alone had worried the commander, but she silenced her concern, rounding another corner and entering into an empty delta of rusty dust and jagged peaks. Changing out her hand gun for her sniper, she waved the other two to take cover just as she did, raising the huge weapon and letting it unfurl itself and rest against the rocky surface she had hid behind. The long barrel reached far out before her, the black coating glistening in the beating starlight which burned the planet. Setting her eye to the scope, noticing Garrus doing the same, she scanned the upcoming horizon, looking for anything that might need a bullet to the throat or maybe even what they had been sent to pick up. She saw more jagged peaks, more dusty land, and what could have been a crater; scanning the horizon again, she noticed a glint of something, like light on metal, poking up on the edge of the crater. Narrowing her eyes, she lifted her head, looking out towards where she'd spotted the strange gleam, glancing over at her companion sniper. He nodded, both knowing they'd seen the same thing, "Doesn't look like a shuttle, Shepard, maybe it's worth checking out."  
"Or maybe it is a primitive trap set up by the traitorous Cerberus group," Javik chimed in, his voice stern and condescending, like always, "Either way, we should proceed with caution."  
"Never thought I'd hear you say that, Prothy," she taunted, smirking behind her helmet as she folded the Widow and strapped it on her back once more, changing it for the Scorpion handgun, "But you're right, it could be either or, so we're just gonna go check it out and hopefully wrap this errand run up without a hitch." She ignored the obvious irritated vibes coming off the oldest of the three, smirking more when Garrus gestured towards her that he'd found the comment just as amusing as she had. Javik would eventually get back at her, either in another yelling match or in a subtle insulting way--both of which he seemed to favor when it came to getting back at her.  
The three continued along the narrow passage towards the crater, the gleam growing in numbers and size as the three got closer. They'd obviously come across the debris field Hackett had mentioned, smaller bits of silver and faded emerald and jade pieces littering the ground as they grew closer. Medusa would have examined each piece, her innate curiosity burning to get a look, but all the commander wanted was to see if there was anything for the Catalyst; if there was, they'd take it and go, if not, they'd go, either way, the mission would be over and they could get back to the fight.  
"Good thing you didn't bring Liara down with you, Shepard," Garrus chimed in over the radio, all three of them lowering their weapons as they stood above the crater, overlooking the massive debris field which broke the continuous amounts of rust with shades of jade, emerald, sapphire, quarts, and opal; like a sea of jewels and silver and golds, "She'd have wanted to document everything. Better not tell her when we get back, huh?"  
"What does it matter now, both the Thoi'han and Inusannon are dead now," the pessimistic prothean commented, handing his rifle in both hands, "In my cycle, research on other species was ignored once the Reaper invasions hit-"  
"Yeah, yeah," Shepard interrupted, not wanting him to go on with another of his 'in my cycle' stories, made him sound a lot older than he looked, "we know, you thought they'd think us too primitive to harvest; thanks. How about we just get down there, do some diggin' and get the hell out of here, alright?" Not waiting for him prepare his own retort, the commander allowed the stronger gravity to pull her down as she slide down the edge of the crater, immersing herself within the history which had remained for thousands of centuries. Everything had gotten bigger, the drop being larger than she had anticipated. She waved the others down, holstering her pistol on her hip as she looked around at the debris. It was mostly just fragments, pieces small and thin in her hand, while some of the bigger portions were large, curved rods which rose from the ground like plants. It had a haunting beauty to it, the death of two ancient species mingling on this planet and only remembered by these metals which were still glistening and bright in the red dwarf starlight. It was impressive that such pillars had lasted this long, as most metals would have corroded or melted over time, but not these. The other two seemed to be engrossed in the machine fragments just as she had, the three moving to examine some of the closer pieces; one piece which seemed to draw the prothean and human commanders towards it with an eerie glow. It was nothing special, not outwardly, as it was only two long, metal columns which pushed from the ground below, twisting and coiling inwardly together and forming a strange arch. Each metal beam was coating in faded colours of gold and wine, stripes of these strange shades following up the beams and deep into the dust.  
"This is strange," was all Javik commented on the structure, keeping his distance as Medusa came up next to him, her arms folding over each other as she examined it.  
She shrugged lightly, "It's kinda cool, if you ask me; sorta haunting, like there should be a spider web in it or something."  
"I did not ask you, Commander," he started, making her huff in annoyance, "and this planet had no life, meaning no spiders."  
"Well thank the Gods for that then, geez," Medusa groaned, rolling her eyes as she put her hands on her hips, "Think it's got what we need?"  
"I do not sense anything from it," he noted, taking a half step back as he turned his body towards her, four golden orbs sternly focused on the interlocking metal poles, "I do not believe there is anything here besides this rubble."  
She hummed in agreement, her teeth nipping at the inside of her lip as she nodded lightly, still looking at the structure, "Well, then I guess there's only one thing left for us to do-" the sound Javik made, a mix betwixt a surprised yelp and a warning growl was worth the death glare he beamed down on her as she had looped her arm under his, pulling his taller, thicker form next to her small figure, "we walk through it for good luck."  
"Luck?" he grunted, still giving her the icy gaze as he spoke, her eyes only glancing over, his head snapping away as her blue hues met his gold orbs, "You are more primitive than I first imagined, Commander. What purpose would this endeavor provide?"  
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, but remember who wears the pants in this relationship, you over grown insect," she chided, throwing back an insult for and insult, "besides, it'll be like visiting the Blarney Stone, except we can't exactly kiss that without suffocating, so we'll just walk straight through and call this mission a dud, all right? Or is that too much to ask of the almighty Javik?" She raised a brow as she felt his arm tense under her fingers, though she didn't bring it up as the ancient warrior straightened up his posture before replying to her, "Whatever you wish, I suppose, Commander." Taking that as her victory, a playful smirk tugging on her lips, the commander raised her chin a bit, trying to make herself appear taller as she stood next to the prothean as she took the first step towards the structure. It only took a handful of steady, measured steps till they stood right under the curved metal; her eyes wandered up the column closest to her, her free hand reaching out and brushing the tips of her fingers against the solid matter. She followed the curved silver, counting the specks of colour and twists of gold which accumulated along the outer edges of the monument. There was something soothing about the gate like structure; like some guardian of forever, guarding the forgotten species which had died out centuries before the human kind had stood on two feet.  
Dropping her hand, she glanced forward, preparing to make the final step forward, out of the arch and call for Cortez once more. When her foot had left the ground, a snapping noise followed by a sharp crackle filled her ears, like her translator was failing. She brought a hand to where her ear would be, the helmet keeping her hand distant. Scrunching up her features, a high pitched squeal echoing in her ears and causing her spine to shudder as she gripped tighter onto the prothean for support; when she'd glanced over, a groan escaping her lips, Javik seemed to have fallen prey to the same noise, as his lips curled into a fearsome snarl and his free hand raised to where ears might have been. Next came the pull in her gut, a hand tightly gripping her intestines and pulling them from her body, leading her down towards the ground. There was a vibrating pain, her bones shaking under her numbing muscles as the dusty world around her began to blur. The last of the assault was a gust of wind which swept her from her feet, as if the heavy gravity of the planet didn't exist, sending her tumbling into a blurred mess of rust and dirt. She still felt the three-fingered grip on her forearm, the only thing anchoring her within these moments, as the foggy world around her began to spin and her body fell and fell and fell into nothing. So when that tightness, that anchor, lightened her heart--where ever it was in all the mess--dropped as she groped the air around her for where the warrior may have vanished to; possibly finding amusement in her primitive plight.  
Just as quick as it had started, it seemed as if everything moved in reverse, the world around her slowing down, her body being pulled back to the ground, her glassy vision starting to clear as her intestines were folded and shoved back into her gut, and the sharp alarm faded to a dull hum. That didn't stop the amount of vertigo which caught up with her, knocking her to her knees, breath in pants, and body trembling. She hardly was able to notice where she had landed, the ground in her hands a dark, moist fertilized dirt--definitely not the rusty rock of the planet she had landed on hours before. She would have shaken off the last of the sensations, but the moment she tried to get to her feet, her body shuddered and quit, her form falling within the thick brush of this strange planet; her eyes fluttered, sleep tempting her bones as she looked at the arm where Javik had once been, a piece of her gold painted gauntlet having been ripped free in the alien mess. Medusa mumbled something incomprehensible as she finally faded into the darkness, a foreign entity among the war which waged around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *-Orphic Hymn #35- To Artemis  
> Two things:  
> 1\. this is for whoever gave Lore of the Dead a kudos because that made me ridiculously happy.  
> 2\. if you get the reference i made in this chapter, you are wonderful and if not, you are still wonderful.


	3. Recollections of the Damned

His head was throbbing, his muscles ached, and a low muffled hum was all he heard. It was the same as when he'd first woken up those long months ago, surrounded by two primitive species and an AI; all of whom he still found just as primitive. His vision was blurred and all his senses were both overwhelmed and numb at the same time. It was worse than being blind for the prothean, though after a few moments of blinking, his vision began to clear and his senses once again began to ignite. The first thing that jostled him was the deep voice, a hum of concern vibrating under the muffled tone which was being used and the hand--three-fingered--tugging at his black armor--the armor the primitive Commander had asked, or rather demanded, he wear in an attempt to match the dark shades which the entire team wore. The voice was familiar, yet, somehow he felt as though he'd forgotten the tones and inflections which this person used; thankfully, his hearing came to him quicker than his sight, clearing up the disgruntled noise into a sharp, crystal voice.  
"Commander," subharmonics flaring with concern and anxiety while the overtone was stern and professional, "Commander, we need to leave; get up!" He hadn't been called by his title since he'd awaken, all of the primitive species choosing to call him by his Forward Name. That alone shook Javik out of his dazed state, blinking his eyes a few more times before he was able to raise half himself from the ground, a hand pressing to his carapace. "Glad to see you're still in this with us, Commander," a relieved undertone, informal and friendly, "Now get up, we need to back to the Expedient, I'm not ready to be her captain just yet."  
The haunting burn in the back of his throat brought a drought to his mouth and choked his voice from speaking. Javik hadn't heard that name since they'd landed on what had become Eden Prime when he'd awoken, hadn't heard the name of the ship which had been left in his command when they had been fighting the Reapers during his cycle. His jaw clenched, wondering if he'd gotten sealed away in one of his past memories, lapsing into something he'd almost forgot; it happened often, thankfully mostly when no one was around. He’d grit his teeth, exhale heavily, and push away the past, not letting it bother him when he was the only one in the future. He narrowed his eyes, glancing around as he got to his feet, taking in the sight of his surrounding; dark, violet skies, reddish, brown flora beneath his feet, the heavy vibration of the Expedient thrumming through his exoskeleton, and the bitter, tangy smell of blood mixed with tho'vrhan buds in bloom. They were on Rahkohak in the outer Enduromi sector of the Empire. He remembered pieces of this planet, obviously enough to identify it, but only a few strands were intact that were outside his sensory memory; he remembered the hordes of Enduromi and Synil, straggling Densorin scientists who'd ended up being shot down by the mass of indoctrinated slaves the Reapers used to take the planet, and he remembered the shot which had killed his commanding officer, Captain Vahrok. He'd been there when the indoctrinated soldier had shot him down, the body succumbing to gravity without a moment’s hesitation, and then the crew referring the IPS Expedient as his.  
"Is your carapace that thin or do you need me to hold your hand?" gruff, light concern and hint of teasing, a crooked grin on the other's lips, "Commander, the planet has been evacuated and all that remains is for us to get back and leave. The Reapers are at our bristles, so we need to move pretty quickly." Javik nearly dropped the assault gun--the M-7 Lancer, the strange weapon Shepard had given him along with a few mods a while back--as he began to realize the familiar voice had just a familiar face.  
The other male who'd been addressing Javik with such familiarity and concern, was built as all pure protheans were, his carapace was lighter and the shades of colour which dappled his sharp and angular features were shades of gold and fiery orange, his eyes were rounder, less sharp shade of reddish brown, similar to the flora beneath their feet. His neck frill was the same ruby shade as all pure protheans had, and it vanished beneath the curves and folds of the crimson and gold armor which all officers wore. The bitter taste of doubt and disbelief flooded his senses, all of them his, as he seemed to gape at the other officer, at his second in command, and at his closest companion; Huhshik. His hands gripped the assault rifle tight, the only piece of this memory which anchored him to the time he now lived, with the woman he now served. It was the only bit of the entire memory which should not exist, making it feel even more like a dazed hallucination than anything else.  
Huhshik turned towards the west, raising a hand to shield his eyes, "Come on, she's not too far out and the recovering squad will have already retrieved the Captain's remains," he dropped his hand to his weapon, looking back he gave a reassuring and quick pat on the shoulder before he began to make his way across the open land where they stood. Javik only stood there, waiting for the memory to continue with himself moving after his long dead friend as he would make snide comments while Huhshik only retorted with a grin. Except, he never moved; only the warm coloured prothean who walked tall and with a slight sway, something Javik always commented on. The commander's brow knitted in confusion, his jaw clenching, and his knuckles paling on the rifle in hand. This was a memory, it had to be, and yet, everything was slowly becoming more and more real, closer to the small voice in the back of the commander's mind which was whispering to him over and over again, you're home. There was no logic, no science to explain how, but by some chance, some freak accident of humoring a primitive ape, he'd ended up being tossed back into his own time; a time long before he'd gone into stasis on, as the primitive races called it, Eden Prime.  
"Well come on, Commander," Huhshik called back, an undertone of worry and concern, "when we get back, we're gonna need to have a talk about your weapon choice; that thing looks like it can hardly shoot straight, let alone hit anything." Javik scoffed the other tossing on a lopsided smirk as he waited for the other to join him on the way to the ship. Shaking his head, the commander stepped forward, his foot colliding with something solid. Looking down, his four eyes fell on the simple, black plate which didn't match the style of his own armor; picking it up, it was obvious through both the colours and the experiences which filled his mind where it was from. He could feel the tug at his guts again and the hum in his ears, making his blink a bit as he rolled it over in his palms; the gold stripe over the inky black paint telling him he wasn't the only one who had been brought back. Sheaprd had been dragged back to his time and was somewhere on the planet.  
"Was there someone with me?" alertness and a twinge of annoyance under his tone, "A female." Javik had asked as he stowed the plating, walking over towards his comrade, "No, but if that's why you ran all the way out here then we need to also share a conversation about your priorities during war."  
"No, er-yes, it is the reason, but not for the reasons you are thinking," Javik retorted, his friend cracking a thin smirk as his commanding officer seemed to flounder for an answer, "She is the reason we are here and our mission is not complete unless she is with us."  
Huhshik stopped in his tracks, turning to face Javik with a concerned and stern look, "The reason? The reason we are here is to evacuate this colony, not a singular female."  
"The mission is what I tell you," determination laced his command, his eyes stern, "that's an order, and I charge you to remember that."  
Huhshik said nothing, only straightened up and gave a tight nod. The commander ignored the annoyance and suspicion which lightly damped the air betwixt the two, thinking only on how he'd find a specific living creature on a planet which was now the battle front of the Reaper War. Indoctrinated soldiers still ran rampant along the surface and within the colony which was just along the horizon, but he knew that wouldn't stop her. The asari had mentioned what the primitive commander had done, killing all of the Collectors--as they called them--when they'd destroyed the base nearly a year before his awakening; it had been a mercy after thousands of years of genetic modifications. She was well armed, even with only two weapons, and had a basic understanding of how to use her prothean biotics--even if she refused to let him simply share with her years of experience through a simple touch.  
There was still a small string which grew tighter as they began to make their way around the denser brush and foliage of the planet, no way of knowing where she might have landed or if she was at all alive after the sensations that had brought them here; he wouldn't let himself believe she was dead, she was too persistent and angry to die. She never stopped when it came to winning or survival, never let the threat of death stop her from charging with her krogan like tendencies, and didn't seem to think of her life at all; Javik could count the times they nearly saw her give her life for the war, though he could also note that it had all began after the treacherous pro-human group attacked the heart of their civilization. After that day, he could always feel the sticky, heavy feelings of sorrow, guilt, and loathing thickly layered over the strong, confident, and witty commander he had met when he woke up. It was a disappointment and he'd told her that with war there comes loss, but all she'd done was walked out; it was both aggravating and unseemly for a commander to act as she did, to both ignore and blatantly toss away her own life time and time again. Comrades die, it is a necessity of war and Javik had always seen it that way.  
“Commander,” twinge of annoyance still lingering, overly formal betwixt the two, “Might I inquire upon this mission’s true intentions?”  
Javik had to pause a moment, his mind racing to configure an excuse which might soothe the soldiers unrest about this hunt. They had already completed the mission which they’d been sent on, with the planet evacuated there was no reason they should be within the dense, fiery brush of this planet; except that Shepard, a singular human female, was out there as well. He knew she could keep herself alive for quite a while; all the while she had ammo, of course. Along with that strange shroud she kept along with her, she could hide wherever she wished, but her scent—soft, gentle, and sweet, like the ahvahin fruit mixed with the bitter tang of the crisp leaves off the ghahshik tree—was pungent enough to draw attention for miles. He knew she had an affinity for high places, her entire life being spent high and out of sight, which left his eyes to scan the tree lines for possible sighting. He knew nearly everything about her, which he hoped might make the search less tedious, but along with that, he was aware that Shepard knew how to conceal herself should she not want to be found. This hunt could be useless, could get the two of them killed, and his feet still moved forward.  
“I cannot relinquish the details here,” was all he could come up with in a near apathetic tone, “all I can say is it is imperative we find her.”  
He was thankful his companion did no question his words, as the commander was still drawing up what he might say when they did find her. She would most definitely seem like the primitive apes they’d all grown up hearing about, while her scent might give a bit of doubt, should anyone transfer information towards her—though he knew that likely by permission—that they’d see without hesitation that she was both foreign and impossible. No one would believe the Empire would have fallen, only to be replaced by the children of the universe who hadn’t even discovered language. All of it was unbelieving in this time, which only meant he’d have to contrive some excuse as to why she was important, why one should not touch her, and why she looked and smelled the way she did. All of which he’d have to figure out soon.  
They continued with rifles raised, bodies low, and eyes scanning the long horizon. The cluster of flora which concealed the two was silent and still, forcing both to keep attention and alertness as they advanced. The air was stale around them, the star which shined in the violet sea above beamed down, yet was not hot like it had been on the planet Shepard and he had been on only a handful of hours ago. The atmosphere wasn’t as thick as it was normally on the Normandy, leaving him to speculate that the thin amount of oxygen which was available would push her to find cover, instead of running; she wasn’t dull and it was a smart move.  
 _Running, gun holstered and cloak tight around his neck—no,_ her _neck—as a string of words floated from her lips. Hands groped at everything she could reach, tearing leaves, ripping up plants, and taking short moments to press her shoulder against a tree or dive within concentrated amounts of brush. She was unaware of where she was, head still aching and lungs rasping for air, but she knew, a piece of her plating gone, that he would hunt for her. He didn’t follow tracks like she would, but that if he touched what she’d touched, he’d follow and he’d find._  
 _She dropped to the ground, knees digging into the mud and her hand pulled away the cloak from her head, making her a seen target, and pressed the side of her face to the ground. Vision blackened, her mind was silent, waiting._  
 _Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thum, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump._  
 _Body jostled to it’s feet, hands pulling the hood back over her head as she wiped her hands together—water._  
He blinked his eyes open once more, the lingering effect of her rudimentary transfer of information stinging the back of his mind. Looking down at his feet, he could see no tracks or boot imprints which might assure him that she had been here, but there was a small pool of nearly dried water; his foot having splashed small drops onto his calves.  
When he paused a bit longer, just to simply acclimatize himself to the area she had once occupied, he could smell the same soft, bitter mix she always shared when she walked into the cargo hold with him, when they were in a city or out on the battlefield; that nearly overpowering scent catching him off guard when she’d suddenly appear behind the same rubble as he or when they were in the elevator on the Citadel before the attack and the gentle scent had been mixed with another sickeningly sweet blend—her smile had been wider and she’d been dressed in a most revealing and alien manner. The turian had joked with her about visiting someone special—something called a ‘date’—to which she’d turned a surprising shade of crimson and shook off his teasing with her normal clever wit. It had been interesting.  
Javik pushed away those memories, pulling himself back into the thickened forest. There was no time to relive such trivial memories of a Shepard that no longer existed. He had to find the one which did exist before there was no longer a Shepard for her own cycle.  
“She is this way,” he noted quick and sternly, following the memory’s path with knowing feet, keeping his eyes open for anything which might suggest she had slowed or stopped. He found that strangely the prayer which she had recited in the memory was running through his mind as the two continued with a quickened pace; asking a false deity for protection and guidance. He didn’t need to worry, fighting and battle were her words and she was most verbose when she spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just realized that i just basically revealed what this whole story is about and that i get to make up words, cultures, trends, fashion, etc. for a handful of alien species and seriously im excited for this<3 hope you readers are too.


	4. Tales of the Damned

The thick expanse of foliage which provided cover for the two thinned and vanished as the titan like architecture, something Javik always internally marveled at; the Densorin had always had an eye for the alien and strangely beautiful designs for their cities, tall, slender pillars holding up separated platforms of triangular and circular domes, while smaller pyramids littered the sides of each larger building. It was a strange layout, a twisted maze of labs and dwellings, almost similar to the hive like cities of his own race, yet somehow more open and fluid; while it was strangely beautiful, it provided little cover for the two officers, reminding Javik of how easily many of the citizens had been shot down with ease during the evacuation.  
Descending upon the deserted labyrinth, the two officers ducked within the thin alley which two small, scaled pyramids created, barely a gap for the two walk in a single line. Their armour scraped against the sides here and there, both grunting under their breath as they pulled their arms closer to avoid making any more noise, ducking their heads as a line of forgotten laundry draped betwixt the two dwellings; raising a hand, they both stopped, the light of the city before them, grazing at their feet. The air collected around them, settling and enlightening them both to the situation at hand; the lingering scent of their indoctrinated brothers and the undertone of malevolence and what was once serene and welcoming muddling together and swirling in a molten mix. Four eyes were narrowed as he looked along the lighted street before him, scanning for a clearing which would allow them to move farther, to go undetected as they searched for the singular female.  
He advanced first, quickly shuffling himself from one tight space to another, Huhshik following close behind. They continued along an unknown path, moving from one shadowed alley to another, avoiding detection and strife. There was few words spoken betwixt the two warriors, merely hand gestures and the exchange of scents; Javik was grateful the skill came second nature to him, after years of disuse. They swiftly moved about the city structure, eyes peeled for both their target and once familiar faces, guns poised for action.  
The farther in they went, the more his worry grew, a strange feeling which lapped at his insides, tugging and pulling pieces of rational thought from the collective idea that Shepard was safe. It made his blood boil beneath his skin, knowing well enough, having faced a multitude of different situations alongside the primitive commander and witnessed her ferocity and cunning play in the field. She was both swift of feet and mind, quick with wit and the pull of a trigger, and as merciless with her tactics as with her advanced biotics; among the many primitives he had been forced to work among upon the Normandy, in his mind, if anyone was able to survive such a dramatic turn of events, Shepard was alone. She had spent her entire existence since he’d awaken, proving to both him and everyone around her that she was incapable of dying, incapable of losing, as her list of notable kills, most recently another Reaper, proved the point. Shepard was more durable than any metal, more forceful than gravity, and stronger than any creature of her own kind, yet, as he relayed these facts and observations over and over, turning them within his mind, somehow, small revelations, instances where her fragile form was proven, were plaguing his mind; times when after a mission, she’d dispose of broken and dented armour, revealing the cut and bruised pale flesh beneath. There had been times when he’d be passing by to retrieve something to eat and she’d be sitting in the medical wing, the human doctor attending to her. While she was menacing and powerful, she was small and fragile. While she could fight till the end, he began to feel that perhaps her end had already come.  
His thoughts had brought about an ill timed move, having been so caught up within his own mental recollections of Shepard, that he hadn’t realized the repugnant scent of the indoctrinated soldiers was even present till Huhshik was knocking him to his feet and the pungent smell filled his lungs as energy shoots blazed past. Through clenched teeth and steady feet, the two charged through another alley, all eight eyes scanning feverishly for anything which could provide adequate cover; the sound of buzzing and relentless screeching filled the air from behind them, closing in on the pair as they dashed through each tight passageway. With only the two of them, the assembly of soldiers at their backs proved to be a fierce motivator, both Protheans covering for the other as tangible targets came into their range, only to be replaced by several more of the same enemy. While they could effectively kill the ones they could visibly see, the ones close behind were far more of a surprise, or even more the ones which began to filter in from the passing streets to join in the trailblazing hunt.  
Javik could feel the thick fright and uncertainty which began to pour from his companion, the noticeable doubt filtering in his eyes whenever Javik was able to look back and take his shot, Huhshik running past or ducking below before the shot. He had pulled the two far from where they should have been, dropped them into the centre of a warzone and for a woman who he was now beginning to have doubts was even alive still; their odds were slim and deaths claws were tugging at his armour. It was becoming very clear that his mission to find Shepard was losing its worth, every fired shot they dodged proving that her chances were just as slim.  
“Make for the Expedient!” Javik ushered, firing off several rounds, watching the bodies drop while others took to firing back, “It is clear that this search is in vain!” Huhshik dipped to the ground as he passed, turning back to help aid his commanding officer.  
Though waves of appreciation was filling the cavity the two occupied, opposing soldiers filling in as they dashed to escape, a disgruntled groan escaped the warmly coloured Prothean, “If it is our mission to find this female, who or whatever she may be, then we shall complete it! That is our true mission, is it not?”  
With an exasperated groan, Javik and Huhshik rolled from the edges of two pyramids, seeking cover on the edges of the dwellings while energy shots fired past betwixt the two, guns ready and retaliation shots fired when a break was given. His charade was collapsing beneath him now, the once teetering platform of his lies—all of which in hope to find Shepard—were now rattling as the truth quaked below. The situation and his mission were failures, their lives were valued in the war and while he would feel the pang of regret, perhaps even a tinge of remorse, for the loss of Shepard, with his knowledge he could aid his own cycle, perhaps influence a change in the fate which he had come from. This would only be achievable if he was alive and as the situation continued to spiral downwardly, that chance was dwindling.  
“Huhshik,“ he began, discharging the last of his thermal clip into the charging enemies, lips curling in a snarl as he was forced to cover once more and allow his companion to replace him while he replaced the clip, “Our true mission here is—“  
A flash of white slipped past the Prothean’s vision, a glimmering spiral which flew past with a tail of two more as a small click resounded around. Twisting his head back towards the alley where the indoctrinated soldiers filed through, thermal clip in hand and eye growing wide, small, thin disks of circling white light jutted out of the side walls, the light growing brighter and brighter before—  
“Get down!” The older officer barely had time to roughly grab the other by the arm and drag him to the ground, covering their heads the best he could as the walls on both side collapsed and the air betwixt was violently pushed around them, a large resounding blast deafening the two in the explosion. The heavy debris crumbled the soldiers along with the passage to the two, stopping their pursuit momentarily; not only did it save the two, it proved a point to the fire of worry inside Javik, proving the Prothean correct that the same fierce woman he fought alongside was still alive and nearby.  
Both groaned as they rose from the ground, winded and tense, their lungs filled with dust rather than much needed oxygen. The air was thin with mixing feelings, Javiks sudden, yet regular, irritation blending with a mix of relief, while his companion fed off these feelings with his own sense of curiosity and gratitude; while he didn’t understand what had happened, or rather who had caused the explosion, he was far from taking such help likely. Running their hands over their dusted armour and guns, both silently grumbling about the damage done and the repairs which would need to be made the dented metal, the two began to scan the nearby buildings, eyes focused on the trajectory which the grenades had taken. He held a hand above his eyes, shielding the glare of the city from view, though it was easy to spot his target as a small, familiar flash of green caught his attention, strengthening his resolve.  
Gripping his weapon tightly, Javik called for them to move, adding that he knew where they could take cover from reinforcements. With little hesitation and plenty of curiosity, the two pure Prothean’s swiftly made their way towards a reflective structure, the scaled walls beaming with the light of the orbiting star and blinding any who looked too closely; a well protected spot. It was quite tall, slender and cylindrical shaped, held together by stone, fluted pillars which raised each level higher than the last. Intricate details were inscribed along the pillars, black and gold markings telling stories and what the building was for, yet as the two shuffled in, they hardly gave a passing glance. With quick feet the two darted up the stairs, Javik leading with a near exuberant force, one hand pressed to the wall, the mixing scent of the commander mingling with the following steps she took hours ago; her imprints leading him as he was drawn from the stairwell onto a floor, roughly pulling open the door into the brilliantly lit open space.  
It became obvious what the building had been as the two began to look about, desks lining the interior as chair decorated the floor, joined by scattered documents which littered the room and furniture; it was clear by the mess the inhabitants had left in a hurry, some monitors still rumbling with silent static as others displayed warning messages and evacuation codes. A steady drip filled the silence, Huhshik quickly and carefully moving across the lab towards the glass overlooking the street below, while Javik did his best to locate the sweet scent which had guided him this far; the smell, usually a pungent odor he couldn’t escape, was now nearly gone, replaced by the mixed scents of papers, lingering feelings, and a strong stench which burned his senses; his teeth baring slightly as he tried to ignore the repugnant smell which was slowly overtaking his senses. The commander had to fight the urge to call for the other, to demand she make herself known, simply moving about a bit carelessly, running his fingers along the edge of a desk, slowly passing by broken glass chambers and glancing over the schematics which rested betwixt each duo that lined the wall; there was no way she could hide forever, not when he was so close. They had traveled so far and now that she was within reach, he was not going to give.  
“Commander,” Javik paused a moment, eyes trailing down the details of a stray console and the wires which he believed he had witness shuffle lightly, giving a low hum that he was listening, “Is this who you’re looking for?”  
He was quick then, no low murmur or hum, just a silent snap of his vision as he looked upon his companion, who he believed would simply be pointing or motioning towards the familiar face of the other Commander, but instead was forcefully on his knees, arms empty and gun kicked far from his reach, with a small, white pistol pressed to his warm carapace; yellow eyes traced up the white pistol, up a pair of arms—on missing a black and gold gauntlet—and to the familiar face of Medusa Shepard. Her blue eyes were focused and narrow, darting from the Prothean beneath her to Javik, her skin dripping with some strange liquid which pressed her ripe strawberry blonde hair to her oval face.  
Red scars flared while blue eyes narrowed, her fingers readjusting along the handle of the Scorpion, and a lopsided smile pulled at her plush lips as she quirked a brow in mild humour, “So, Commander, mind telling me what’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I apologize for the long wait and I appreciate all the comments received, but I will not be directly replying to any of them.  
> 2\. As for minor details which were changed, such as her name, those have meaning behind them which may be mentioned in future chapters--such as background history and in depth knowledge relating to her experience in ME2.  
> 3\. Please be patient as I do plan on adding another chapter soon, though I do not know when.  
> 4\. Thank you again and I'm glad so many people seem to enjoy this story, I apologize if this chapter is too quick or fast pace, I haven't gotten into the swing of things just yet.


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